


Dancing Queen

by KittsFics



Series: Old Tumblr Fics [3]
Category: Sherlock Holmes (Downey films)
Genre: Dancing, Domestic Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-15
Updated: 2019-09-15
Packaged: 2020-10-19 08:10:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 930
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20653970
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KittsFics/pseuds/KittsFics
Summary: "Who taught you to dance?""You did."





	Dancing Queen

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted 23rd February 2013 [ here ](https://kittsfics.tumblr.com/post/42379237954/johnlock-dancing-queen) on tumblr.

I’m dragged towards wakefulness slowly as someone nuzzles into the back of my neck, their beard tickling, and arms tighten round my waist, pulling me closer into the bare chest behind me. His familiar sent relaxes me and I hum contentedly, fingers automatically reaching over to tangle together.

“John?”

“Sorry I woke you, love.” I turn to face Sherlock and he smiles softly then reaches up to stroke my cheek, laughing quietly at my slight blush.

”S’okay.” He leans up to kiss me lazily, not particularly hurried by the light starting to stream through the dusty windows. After a moment, he pulls us upright and I shift so I’m cuddled in his lap, head tucked under his chin, so we can watch the sunrise together. “I love you.” Again his lips find my neck, tongue flickering across hickey marked skin.

“Sherlock…” I half gasp, half moan as he laughs just under my ear; breath tickling, hands caressing. I relax; this is my perfect moment, just him and me.

No one else; no one to judge us.

This is of course ruined as there’s a sharp knock on the front door and I mentally curse whoever it is. Then my mood worsens as Gladstone starts to scratch at the door, whining quietly. “Five minutes.” I growl and lean back further into Sherlock’s embrace as he just laughs, vibrations running through me.

He gently pushes me out of his lap and I pout up at him, not amused in the slightest. Avoiding my roving eyes, he scoops some clothes up off the floor where they ended up last night, humming slightly as he quickly dresses himself then heads for the door when I catch his sleeve, pulling him in for a passionate kiss, trying to convince him to stay in bed with me. “John, Sweetheart, get dressed.” He whispers against my lips but I just continue to pout as he unlocks the door and heads out.

A few minutes later I drag myself out of bed, stopping to pull on some clothes before heading through to the main room, only to find Sherlock sprawled out on the couch, engaged in animated conversation with two young ladies. He turns at my footsteps and spots my half scowl. He just smirks back, mouthing ‘I love you’.

“Ah, this is my associate, Dr John Watson. If it’s agreeable he will be accompanying me to the dance tonight.”

The words sink in as one of the ladies nods and I freeze up, dance? I don’t dance, I can’t dance, not even the simplest two-step let alone the fancy waltzes that seen to be mandatory on those sorts of occasions. I’ve avoided it at all the military events I’ve been invited to, resorting to some of the most unbelievable excuses ever. 

I vaguely hear the others discussing times and places as I fall deeper into my own mind. Scenarios flash across my thoughts, Sherlock asking for a dance; do I try and make him think I’m useless or do I decline and he think me a coward? Images of my beloved dancing with a string of strangers swirl round my head, before I remember he couldn’t ask me to anyway. I start to panic, gasping for breath.

“John? John!”

A soft mouth against mine saves me from my thoughts. Sherlock pulls back as my breathing returns to normal, hands stroking my back. I wander how much time has passed as I realise we are alone, in silence, not even Gladstone in barking…

“Sherlock! Have you killed my dog again?”

“No, he was just being noisy so I shut him up.”

“Sherlock!” he gives me an innocent look and kisses my nose.

“You okay?” by raising one hand to brush my cheek, he forces me to meet his eyes.

“Um…did you say dance?”

He nods happily, “Yup, it’ll be fun, you and me, just not too publicly and don’t get drunk again…” he trails off at my expression.”John…?”

“Promise not to laugh, Sherly.” I throw his hated nickname in his face. He raises an eyebrow but nods solemnly.

“I can’t dance.”

He smiles, well smirks but true to his word, erm nod, doesn’t laugh. “Then I’ll just have to teach you.”

I just blink as he lets me go to head over to the gramophone, putting on a slow waltz. He crosses back and offers me his hands, I just raise an eyebrow. He rolls his eyes and positions us correctly, him leading, of course. “Sherlock…” The rest is lost as he gently kisses me.

It’s not easy; I’m tense, still plagued by my imagination, but Sherlock gently rubs the small of my back, trying to calm me down. We turn in small circles, but it feels forced, wooden.

“Just relax, feel the music love.” Easy for him to say, he's a musician, but after a moment I realise he’s right, it all orbits round a central rhythm, call it a heartbeat; 1,2,3. 1,2,3. Sherlock leads me round the room, spinning as we go. We’re soon surprising gracefully and he has few criticisms which quickly trail off as I get the hang of it, and I only stood on his toes twice.

On the next dance he lets me lead and it’s a lot less smooth, in fact it only takes me a few seconds to catch his toes and we collapse together onto the sofa, laughing. Sherlock instantly slides into his lap, nuzzling my cheek as I hum along.

“Maybe you need a few more lessons.” He laughs, kissing me softly.


End file.
